


The Thawing River --Chapter Three

by BlackbirdWrites



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, POV Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackbirdWrites/pseuds/BlackbirdWrites
Summary: It's Miss Walker's first dinner at Shibden and the Lister Family's eccentricities abound.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854), Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Marian Lister
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	The Thawing River --Chapter Three

**Author's Note:**

> Three kind readers, Tjorven (writer on here) and my Tumblr pals extraordinaire, LovingAnneLister and AnneListers-right-middle-finger, gave me the finger and valuable story notes and I thank them.
> 
> Two stories precede this one: 
> 
> 1\. "Anne versus The Medievalists" https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946122
> 
> 2\. "Might I Tell the Truth?" https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110342

# The Thawing River

# 

##  Part One

During my enrollment in York's Manor School, I had attended evening vespers with the rest of the students but afterward was locked away in the attic. With hours on my hands and a candle stub for light, I'd expanded my ancient Greek studies, and soon, I was riveted.

I had not known that the Moon over ancient Greece could not phase from crescent to orb without women disrobing in song on the hillsides. 

Two words had stuck in my mind: Moonlit orgies.

Why had I not been born a Spartan?

Once released from my imprisonment, I'd entered an aggressive period of my life. I physically fought with other people. I was both angry and frustrated. I desperately wanted to be wanted by pretty females, but often they did not want me in return. There was a game, I soon realized, to be played along the way of lovemaking. 

Within years, I became good at the game.

Then, I mastered it.

But there were costs.

Most of them, I was willing to pay, and some well, they just happened. I'm more accustomed now to the rhythms of life. The melodies and measures of which go both up and down the scale. When in love, the rhythm appears, and quite suddenly, you're there within it. I feel it growing stronger when coming together with Miss Walker. With her, it happens during her third goodish one. 

And I don't know why yet.

With Miss Walker, there's always a hint of her loneliness that shows through, needing to be soothed from its faint tremblings. She's never seen my own chaotic side and never will. No one sees me like that anymore. The last time I had failed to control myself was the last time Mariana had kicked me to the kerb. Where once I had a haunting regret, I now feel free. However, Mariana possesses the low-to-the-ground senses of the snake and will soon write to me, asking, "Freddie, What have you been up to?" She knows I cannot stay celibate for too long. 

Surely, Miss Walker must feel our bonds tightening after so much lovemaking? Maybe that's why she's anxious at first, even though I'm very gentle with her when we begin. And still, sometimes we can be sitting at breakfast, and Ann will tell me how unsure she is of her decision not to have taken Mr. Ainsworth. It astonishes me every time I hear it, and I pinch myself to make sure I'm sitting at her table after a night that even I, who obsessively counts orgasms, had shot past a number I'd memorized at midnight. 

Long past.

Even if I had a friend I could tell, no one could imagine the profoundness of my utter confusion sometimes with Miss Walker.

Remedy or not, and who knows with her anyway, I've brought her to dinner at Shibden. It's paramount to me that she has an enjoyable evening with my family, and that soon, she'll call Shibden home.

Marian is, of course, a wild card, and where is she? I look at my pocket watch and see that it's six twenty and she's nowhere in sight. By five, Marian is usually sitting by the fire with my father and my aunt. My father is oblivious, but if ever I needed my aunt to pull through for me -- tonight is the night. We all need to be polite and kind and keep Miss Walker off the ceiling.

** # # #**

****

In the sitting room, I'm in my usual spot, to the left of the fireplace, and under an oil painting of an ancient Lister. Our profiles match, so people say, and is why I always stand here.

****

Miss Walker is nearby and warming herself in front of the fire. We did get a little damp on our race from the chaumière during the storm, but it was worth it. My attention drifts to my aunt, saying, "The servants are re-arranging the table now, but I do wonder ..."

****

"What?" I ask, knowing full well that Miss Walker's coming for dinner was a sudden surprise.

****

"I know you're busy, with all your coal mines and such. Could that be why you've forgotten?" 

****

Frowning, I answer, "I can't think of what."

****

Her face creases in wrinkles as she replies in a guilty whisper, "It's Mr. Abbott's night..."

****

Abruptly, Marian walks into the sitting room and finishes my aunt's thought, "To come to dinner. Yes, Mr. Abbott's been invited to dinner and typical of you -- you have forgotten, haven't you? Or why else would you be here and bringing Miss Walker?" Triumphant at how caught I am in a trap of my own making, Marian smirks at me.

****

Under my breath, I curse, which is not like me to take the Lord's name in vain. My aunt stares down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, while I make a split-second decision: I will remain unfazed by my apparent ill-timing. I rejoin, "Is that so? Well, I'd better make sure they've poured enough wine."

****

Miss Walker says to my sister, "It's so nice to see you, Marian." And catching my sleeve before I can leave, she walks out of the sitting room with me. 

****

"Good Lord! Things took a turn," she whispers anxiously, once we're out of earshot."What should we do?" Miss Walker asks.

****

"When Mr. Abbott arrives, to Marian's over-the-top fanfare, we certainly don't want to be anywhere near the front door." I lead Ann into an adjoining room, and my tour begins, "Shibden Hall is the oldest building in Halifax ..."

****

But Miss Walker interrupts me, "What? But that's not true. The Normans built here in eleven-thirty, and the Romans much earlier."

****

Staring her down, I ask, "How could you not know that I meant 'still standing?'" 

****

Lighting her candle from mine, I lead Ann past the estate office and away from the main hall and down a narrow corridor. We must walk single file to enter a large room in the oldest part of the house; its walls hacked by medieval war axes and -- it just so happens -- a place of fond childhood memories for me.

****

"What went on here?" Miss Walker gasps, as she ducks under my arm for warmth and cover. But before I can thrill her with my medieval battle re-enactments, she says, "I need to tell you something."

****

"The floor is yours." I feel my stomach flip. 

****

"Well, you might not like it." Miss Walker scrunches her nose. 

****

Self consciously, I sniff the air, whilst thinking, the occasional rat has been known to crawl in here and die when she blurts out in a rush, "It was Miss Parkhill, after shopping in Halifax on Tuesday, when Mr. Abbott's name came up."

****

"Really? She specifically mentioned, Mr. Abbott? Why? What for?"

****

Miss Walker stares up at the high ceiling, and my gaze follows as an honest-to-God bat flies over our heads. "Whaaa..." she cries.

****

I dismiss it, but of course, there would be bats where I live. "I've never seen anything like that before."

****

Miss Walker looks sideways at me and with hesitance, continues, "Well, it's Halifax gossip, and I know how much you dislike it."

****

"Actually, you're wrong. Gossip is very valuable to a landowner. You'd be wise to pay attention to it." I brush away dust and cobwebs from two chairs and motion for her to sit. I rest my elbow on an even dustier thirty-foot long table, also hacked and scarred by war axes.

****

More bats fly overhead. 

****

In another part of the house that feels centuries away, the doorbell sounds Mr. Abbott's arrival. 

****

I sense the real rat has entered.

****

Miss Walker's story continues. "She, Miss Parkhill, you understand, was having tea at Holdsworth House and, you know, the tribe's constantly worried about, 'treasure hunters,' when it comes to me?"

****

"Treasure hunters. Yes. A big concern, I'm sure, but if true, why so eager to marry you off to Mr. Ainsworth? Mrs. Priestley flat out told me one day, when we saw each other walking along the Lightcliffe Road, that your friend, Mrs. Ainsworth, did have a lot of money, and he probably had married her for it. Because why else would he?"

****

"What do you mean? She was a perfectly nice lady!" Miss Walker objects.

****

"I'm sure your friend had a lovely disposition and bore up well considering her disfigurement."

****

"From the smallpox she had as a child. Did Mrs. Priestley tell you that?" Ann asks quite exasperated before turning defensive, "And, yes, Mrs. Ainsworth was very self-conscious about her pockmarks and hid them, well, at least tried to, by covering them with a dark rouge."

****

"Like a clown's face?" I let slip.

****

"Anne," she says, in a one-word warning.

****

"Never mind, what did Miss Parkhill overhear about treasure hunters in Halifax?"

****

"Well, she was worried they were after me."

****

I exhale a ragged sigh to express the grief Miss Parkhill has caused me. "But now you're not so sure it was about you, is that it?"

****

"Dr. Kenny is fond of me, too fond, really, but he isn't fond of you, is he?"

****

"I pay him on time," I snap. "Why wouldn't he be? Anyway, how is Dr. Kenny involved?"

****

Miss Walker deflects to a more personal assessment and says, "Perhaps, you don't fully realize how you come across to people."

****

I brace myself. I've heard this kind of speculation about me before, reminding me of Mariana just before launching a volley of personal disparagements. 

****

Above us, the circling bats make the occasional high-pitched squeak. 

****

I take Miss Walker's hands in mine and look directly into her eyes, with the vain hope that she won't look up anymore and that whatever bad news she's heard about me from Miss Parkhill -- whilst at tea at the Holdsworth House in Halifax -- won't be something I can't talk myself out of in the next five minutes. I squeeze Miss Walker's hands in mine and gently rub her wrist. "Go on, please?" 

****

"Miss Parkhill overheard a woman she didn't recognize say, 'After the brother had died, there wasn't anyone else?' And another lady had answered, 'But my point is, why no husband?'"

****

I interrupt Ann, "Did Miss Parkhill name any at tea?"

****

"Oh, do wait because next, Mrs. Stansfield Rawson, my cousin's wife, had added, 'Why would Mr. Abbott think the Lister's have any money? Dr. Kenny says the house is falling in around them.'"

****

"Wh, what!" I disturb four hundred years of dust when I smack my hand down on the table. Miss Walker, shaken by my anger, rises to leave. "No, no, no," I say, coaxing her back to her chair, where she looks as if she might cry. 

****

"Is your sister in danger?" She asks.

****

Lightly, I drum my fingers on the table, while thinking five, six, seven moves ahead, "Not sure, but Mr. Abbott certainly is."

****

Sniffling, she continues, "By then, Miss Parkhill had realized that none of this was about me when someone had said, 'The father plays poorly at Pharo.'"

****

"And that's why Uncle James skipped him and settled on me."

****

"And he should have, Anne. Everything about Shibden should be yours -- the bats, the battle-ax marks, the clocks in every room ticking loudly."

****

I feel a sudden headache coming on. The shabbiness of Shibden is glaring in her description. "I'll do something about the bats, first thing."

****

"If you'd like, but our room wouldn't be in here, would it?" She looks around anxiously.

****

"What? No! Certainly not." I cradle her face with both hands, reassuring her. "And don't worry, Ann, about what you've told me." I lean in, and we kiss, and very soon, she's on my lap, her arms around my neck, a smile growing on her lips between kisses. I whisper in her ear, "I'm happy tonight. Are you happy tonight, Miss Walker?"

****

"We did have a very nice _long_ afternoon together."

****

We kiss again and as it begins to deepen Miss Walker slips away from my lips and asks, "I've wondered, ever since Mr. Priestley mentioned it -- that you keep a diary, how much about 'us' do you write in it?"

****

"Interesting question."

****

"What would you like better? If I wrote to the last exquisite detail about our lovemaking? Or if I didn't write about you at all?"

****

"I only get those two choices? You're not playing fair!"

****

"Alright then, what would you write about me?"

****

Miss Walker answers hesitantly, "You're not easily described, but I do know your face well enough to sketch you." Caressing my cheek, she adds, "And your nose that sometimes gets in the way when we're kissing."

****

Miss Walker tucks her chin. Her signal for my kiss, which happens fast and we kiss like this for many minutes, until finally slowing and when our lips become softer, she lifts hers from mine and says, "I did believe, at first, that you hadn't done this before, but I suspect you have."

****

"You're right, this isn't my first time."

****

"I knew it!" Miss Walker says, delighted she guessed right.

****

"And," I add quickly, leaving her no time to probe for details, "I'd wanted our dinner tonight to be you and me with my family, and now with this Mr. Abbott interference, it's become something else, entirely."

****

Miss Walker says, very sweetly to convince me, "I think that at the end of the night if you didn't make any trouble with Mr. Abbott, you'd feel a lot better about yourself, than if you did."

****

I smile and answer, "You said that very convincingly, in case it goes the other way."

****

"Poor Marian," Miss Walker laments.

****

"Yes, poor Marian," I agree while lifting Miss Walker up by her hand. "If this storm doesn't let up, you should spend the night here -- at Shibden with me and see where we would live."

****

****

****

##  Part Two

****

****

Dinner begins at 7 o'clock.

****

****

The servants have added an extra leaf to the table, making it nearly two feet longer, necessary I see, because Mr. Abbott is slightly pudgy. 

****

Marian, believing she's annoying me, seats Mr. Abbott directly across from me. I could not have orchestrated our dinner seating better. I consider proposing a toast when the footman interrupts carrying a note.

****

"For Mr. Abbott, ma'am," the footman says.

****

"For me?" Mr. Abbott twists in his seat and looks completely surprised, before catching himself and squaring his shoulders, as if urgent messages followed him everywhere.

****

Holding the note in his hands, he studies its wax seal before flipping the envelope over to squint at the handwriting. I lower my wine glass onto the table with a decisive clink to get his attention. He jumps a little. I say, "If you require privacy, Mr. Abbott, I'll allow you my office."

****

"Oh! Gracious no, Miss Lister," he says, quickly tucking the unopened note inside his jacket pocket.

****

"Who even knows you're here?" Marian asks, before demurring to more appropriate behaviour, which is to allow her guest his privacy. 

****

Miss Walker perks up and says, "I always want to know what's in a note sent to me. I never let them lie unopened. What if your mother is ill or there's been a fire with the rugs? I would want to know about that, wouldn't you?" She directs her final question to Marian, who's squirming in her seat.

****

An uncomfortable silence settles over the table because Mr. Abbott will not break the seal. Marian adds smiling to not smiling, while at the other end of the table, my aunt's blue eyes widen as she stares beseechingly, at me to 'say something.'

****

So I do. "Marian, why don't you tell Mr. Abbott about the shooting here and what and when?"

****

My aunt sighs with relief but soon settles her worried gaze back on me with skepticism of my resumption. No one would ever make Mr. Abbott for a sportsman and a hunter --- of anything. Meanwhile, Marian lists the estate's available game: Pheasants, dove, quail, and rabbits, by arrows, or pellets, or traps. 

****

Once fully recited to him, Mr. Abbott responds to my shooting offer, as if lecturing a barbarian, explaining to me his domestications and his home-cooked evening meals taken with his mother and his sister. 

****

"So, definitely not how we do it here, dragging in dinner from the fields still bloody."

****

My aunt looks disgusted. "Do you really have to?"

****

"Do you live with your mother?" I blink rapidly as I ask, Mr. Abbott.

****

"I do, and I see Captain Lister here at table."

****

Everyone turns to see my father chewing away at his dinner. "I think we can all see that Captain Lister is present and accounted for, can't we?" I answer.

****

When my father looks up and says to my aunt, "Have you told her yet?"

****

My aunt rolls her eyes over to me and says, "No, Jeremy, I haven't spoken to Anne about it, and now is not the time."

****

"About what?" I ask, "What's happened?"

****

My father thunders, although probably not meaning to, "Next time, take the horse away from the windows before shooting it."

****

Miss Walker cries, waveringly, "Dear Lord, what have you done?"

****

"Nothing!" I pat her arm. "Don't listen to him. I've told you my father's a bit odd."

****

"Poor Percy," Marian says sadly, before remembering she's fighting with me. "And now, she's sinking coal pits that will put us all in the 'poor house!'"

****

Mr. Abbott strokes his chubby chin and listens. 

****

I've owned him as either a Rawson spy or a true to life so-called treasure hunter sniffing around Marian, who hasn't a shilling to her name. Whichever way it is, I'm willing to play along.

****

For now.

****

I spark back at her and say, "Marian, you know that not to be true. I've shown both you and father the figures, so I suggest you correct the record right now, in front of Mr. Abbott."

****

Marian tosses her head back defiant as a filly. "And tell him what, exactly? That you know, ow, ow, ow what you're doing?"

****

"Pricing, hurrying, and monopolizing which, of course, you'd know nothing about, so allow me to explain." I lean back in my Jacobean dining chair and begin. "Shibden's coal. My coal will get a far higher price up the river, where there are no collieries and where I intend to monopolize the market. 

****

"What you should next appreciate, Marian, is that all Halifax shipping traffic must first pass through a series of navigational locks and pay a fee. And these locks are controlled by one family. 'What family?' You might ask? Miss Walker’s family!"

****

Mr. Abbott's eyebrows sail up his forehead. My aunt looks very grieved that I'm discussing money --in any form --in front of company. Marion's hatred of me is palpable, and Miss Walker opines that she'll happily lower my freightage rate since I knew precisely what to do when one of her tenants had set fire to her fields. 

****

Miss Walker says, "And in no time, Anne was over the hill and dealing with him."

****

"Oh my goodness," Mr. Abbott wheezes. "It must be dangerous for a lady confronting the countryfolk."

****

"Oh, really? Why?"

****

Marian slants her eyes at me, inveigling myself once more between her and Mr. Abbott. "Mr. Abbott, pay no attention to my sister, who thinks she's always riding a high horse when she isn't."

****

"That's not how I'd describe her ambition," Miss Walker says to Marion very sweetly, very genuinely. "I hear about Anne's quarries and mines, what are your interests, Marian?"

****

Even my father, who claims he can't hear, but I'm positive that he can, lifts his eyebrows in anticipation of Marian's description of herself, as industrious and helpful. 

****

Poor Marian, I send her a lifeline. "Quite simply, the estate couldn't run without her. My sister oversees the people who oversee the chickens and their eggs and, what else is out there? Oh, our dairy cow -- whose name is? Well, I've forgotten."

****

****

"Lily, her name is Lily," Marian answers flatly.

****

"You've only the one?" Miss Walker asks.

****

I'm slightly taken aback, "Yes, just the one, Lily, apparently, and how many do you have?"

****

Miss Walker throws her hands up the air as if she could not count so high. "I don't know. I've never counted them, but there's a whole field of them near my house. Lightcliffe has its own dairy. You know."

****

"Of course, I know that."

****

"May we discuss something other than cows?" My aunt pleads.

****

Mr. Abbot clears his throat and says, "I hear that you travel quite a bit, Miss Lister."

****

"I've been beyond Miss Walker's cow pastures if that's what you mean."

****

Out of the blue, my father says, "What's this, I hear about you building a bridge?"

****

"Who told you?" I glare at him, very irritated. "It was to stay a surprise for all of you." 

****

Miss Walker muses, "They are rather large. Bridges. Aren't they? To be kept secret." 

****

I say proudly to my aunt, "I'd thought you might like the honour of breaking a bottle of champagne over its main arch." 

****

"Like christening a ship? It'd be my first time." My aunt looks delighted. 

****

"I do have a name in mind because I saw a bridge just like it in Switzerland three years ago, but I'm open to suggestions. (Which will never happen because I've already named the bridge and ordered its signage.)

****

"Who's your bridge engineer, Miss Lister?" Mr. Abbott asks.

****

"Initially, I draw up all the plans myself."

****

He shakes his head. "You couldn't possibly. Where would you have learned, Miss Lister?"

****

Miss Walker gives Mr. Abbott a hint. "It's a suspension bridge she's designed if that helps."

****

Mr. Abbott guffaws, as if it's all in my imagination that suspension bridges have schools that would ever allow me to attend them. 

****

"I'm not sure what you're asking, Mr. Abbott. How I know trigonometry and can calculate the precise angles needed for a bridge to stay up?"

****

Marian bites into my apparent bragging. "As a financial expert, Mr. Abbott is very good with figures."

****

I make no pretense to hide how stupid she is to me. "The solution of torque, Marian, will never be found at the end of a column of banking numbers."

****

Mr. Abbott, leaning into the table, announces that he's not actually the man behind the counter adding up the money, but more of a salesman, and that his rug business keeps him very busy.

****

My hands folded in front of me, I blink a few times at Mr. Abbott. "Yes, it's been mentioned, something in wool."

****

Marian snaps back, "Mr. Abbott employs hundreds of dutiful workers and family men in his business, which is crucial to Halifax." 

****

"I'm slowly putting it together. Of course, his rug business is the origin of your Reform Bill nonsense!”

****

"No! It's not!"

****

“In the real world, Marian, do you actually believe I'd vote to give uneducated men power over me when I've trouble enough with the educated ones? Or haven't you noticed?" 

****

"It's just like you to blame everyone but yourself when your own problems are so obvious."

****

"No, no, no, Marian, I won't have it," my aunt says.

****

"And what do you think, Mr. Abbott? Should women be denied the vote?"

****

"I'd think, Miss Lister, that they'd vote the way their husbands do, so what would be the point?"

****

My aunt holds her breath, while Miss Walker whispers under hers, "Please don't." 

****

"Hmm, are you so sure?" I spear a carrot on my plate and chew it up.

****

Then Mr. Abbott says, "You spoke earlier, Miss Lister, about The Walker Family's monopoly over the shipping lanes."

****

"I do recall."

****

"And your competition in the coal business is also my competitor in banking and finance. I'm guessing you've talked to the Rawson Brothers?"

****

"They are one of the companies on my list, so yes, I've spoken to the Rawson Brothers."

****

"Christopher Rawson has learned the patience to wait before he viciously moves to finally tie-off against someone. Has anybody told you to be wary of him?"

****

"You seem to know a lot about it, Mr. Abbott. Has it happened to you?"

****

"Oh, goodness, yes, Miss Lister, he tried, but with the Merchants Guild behind me the odds changed in my favor." 

****

"Really?"

****

"I don't know anyone who's taken him on alone."

****

"As I've said, my discussions are with many companies, not just the Rawsons."

****

"Even so, when shipping your coal, you'll not be wanting to use any docks controlled by Christopher Rawson's thugs, or you'll soon find out how many thieves ..." 

****

I interrupt Mr. Abbott. "I hadn't known he was also down at the docks."

****

"He's everywhere, Miss Lister."

****

"Hmm."

****

"Safer to ship out from the Merchants Guild's docks and under its protection, that is, if Miss Walker's family would renegotiate the guild's freight lease."

I signal a slowdown to stop motion. "Ah-ha! And that's a negotiation for another time entirely You can't see it, Mr. Abbott, but my aunt's burning a hole in me to change the subject."

As the dinner dishes are being cleared away and the table made ready for dessert and coffee, Miss Walker and I say goodnight to my family and to Mr. Abbott. As we make our way up to my rooms, I consider how every warning he gave about Christopher Rawson's low-handedness was correct. Still, I wonder, could he be spying for Rawson? Yes. That's a high possibility, and using Marion as a soft spot for burrowing into Shibden's goings-on would put more eyes on me. The certainty will be If Mr. Abbott dutifully reports my fabricated story of monopolizing coal markets to Rawson, whose actions toward me will be swift, but I will be ready. I've only one decision to uphold here at home, versus the dozens in the high-stakes world of mining. The nouveau riche carpet maker, Mr. Abbott, will never marry my sister. 

Walking up the flight of stairs to my rooms with Miss Walker, where we'll have coffee, and she'll spend the night, I'm feeling more hopeful and more settled than I can remember in a long, long time.

________________more soon.

****


End file.
